Multiple Choice
by Shimegami
Summary: Daisuke and Satoshi and Dark and Krad and the twins and the next best alternative. Strange shounen ai.


Multiple Choice By: Shimegami Warnings: Shounen ai, angst-ish, weird Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue. AN: Hmm....when did I forget how much I loved this series and this pairing? Satoshi/Daisuke/Dark/Krad weirdness, set early in the manga.  
  
Multiple Choice  
  
It was easy to forget that there was always another choice.  
  
There was always another way out, another road to consider. Even if you couldn't see it.  
  
It was really hard to see it in the bright glare of daytime, at school when he was with *them* and their feminine smiles and their perfect uniforms and their identical faces and the sun glaring too brightly off his glasses so you can't see his eyes.  
  
At school, he was normal and ordinary and had only one road to take. The class klutz, the cute but clueless boy-next-door.  
  
One only liked him as a friend. And the other was beginning to think about him in *that* way.  
  
And then he *changed* and the first one loved him and the second one hated him.  
  
He changed, and the *other* him surfaced.  
  
This was where his road diverged. When he was given choices.  
  
Love *her* and try to get her to see the beautiful in the normal. Or love *her* and try to get her past first impressions.  
  
Neither of them loved both of him. And both of them loved him.  
  
It was strange, and odd, and it gave him a headache. He didn't like dealing with it.  
  
So, he changed.  
  
And he was soaring on wings that weren't his own, off to steal more priceless artwork that his family insisted on. The *other* had awakened and was taking over his mind and body with a datk laugh and a rush of excitement. His beautiful, daring, dark other.  
  
He retreated into the depths of his mind with not a complaint. His other was mildly confused but too caught up in the thrill of the catch and the hunt to question it at the moment. He'd ask later, because he always did, and that was when he knew that his other really cared in his own way.  
  
Then they were in the museum, planning the next daring theft of a work of art (what was it this time? A statue? A painting? He could never remember) dodging guards and alarms with a child's ease.  
  
And just as they were alone they weren't anymore and then *he* was on them, pinning them to the ground with an almost supernatural strength for his sickly-seeming frame. The low lighting of the museum at night didn't glare off his glasses. No, it reflected off his hair, glittering and fracturing the blue strands into ice crystals. It reflected off his skin, sculpting him in marble and moonlight. But it never reflected off his glasses. His eyes were always visible at these times, dark and shadowed but always visible.  
  
And he was glad for that.  
  
*He* was leaning close again, like he always did, whispering words that he really couldn't hear beyond his other's mental ranting. *His* eyes were dark and shadowed as always, and it was in these moments that he seemed to be something other than what he was, amber lighting of the museum catching his hair and sometimes catching his eyes and making both seem to flash yellow.  
  
It reminded him too much of himself and his other. It was dark and fascinating and wholly terrifying. It fit him, but he didn't like it. Much like his other fit with him but he didn't always like it.  
  
And it was times like these that reminded him that there were other paths to be taken, that the options that were readily visible weren't always the only nor always the best ones.  
  
So his other retreated to the edge of his mind and he took over his other body and leaned upward, pressing against the ice-cold warmth of *him* and whispering softly against his ear.  
  
"Hiwatari-kun..."  
  
And his body gave the slightest jerk, a tensing unnoticable if you weren't touching him, and out of the corners of his eyes, he swore that he saw the amber fade from his hair and eyes and only brilliant ice remained.  
  
Then his other resurfaced and he slid like shadows from the other's loosened grip, laughing and teasing like the darkness he was and leaving black feathers like memories. The mission continued, the treasure stolen, and then he was fleeing, slick like oiled feathers through water.  
  
And as he looked back, he could see *him* looking up at him, all blue eyes and blue hair and blue ice that was cold enough to burn. As he looked back, he could see all the paths before him, outlined with shimmering light.  
  
And he laughed and flew and took the path with the bright white light, edged in shimmering blue.  
  
~Owari~  
  
::...is that your final answer?...::  
  
AN: .....x_X....nyuurgh. That was so weird. It feels like it's not words at all really, but a bunch of disjointed manga clips in my head. This makes me wish I could draw the boxes so I could draw manga. XD 


End file.
